100. I have horrendous road rage. It’s quite awful. I know they can’t hear me but I still scream and curse and wish that I could run the offensive driver over. I have no understanding for why people can not drive. It’s not hard. But, apparently I’m quite colorful in my cursing because my friend Zach calls in the afternoons attempting to catch me during my commute. He says he loves to hear “what things you can come up with” and that he’s going to audiotape them and sell them to a distributor one day – thus ensuring he will become a multi-millionaire.
99. I hate hearts. The shape, not the organ. They are horrid and people plaster them all over everything.
98. I hate gold. Unless it’s white gold, but even then it’s a bit horrendous because I know it’s gold. I think gold is heinous.
97. Knowing about 99 and 98, you will understand the significance of this. Most times, under my shirt, I wear a gold heart necklace. The man who may still be the love of my life, had a gold heart necklace engraved with an “I love you” message and his name and gave it to me for my birthday when I was in high school. I believe it was my 15th birthday. He was 21. He didn’t know I hated hearts or gold. I wear it for him. And I’ve never told him I hated it or that I still wear it. He doesn’t need to know.
96. I only have one ovary. The other was removed when I was 18. It had to go to ensure that the entire tumor was removed.
95. I really hate pink. Probably for the same reason I hate hearts. They were forced on me when I was a little girl. I am likely to choose any other color in the world other than pink. Even if it’s a horrendous pukie green.
94. I, as you may have read on Steph’s blog, was probably the earliest masturbator around. I had NO idea what I was doing; I just knew it felt really, really good. I used to ball my blankie up and shove it between my thighs and rub it against myself. My mother discovered this when I was 3 and took my blankie from me. Which only served to enlighten me to the fact that the blankie was muffling the pressure and therefore lessening the pleasure.
93. I have always wanted to travel to three particular places: Scotland, Alaska and Australia. Yes, Australia. Way before I knew Adam, Steph, Muffin, Auburn, Bevis and the rest of you lot existed, I wanted to go to Australia. I think it stemmed from that horrid movie I watched when I was like 11 . . . and my friend Kelly and I continually walked around squealing at one another “Did the Dingo eat your baby??” And then laughing hysterically. Yes, I know I was a twisted kid. What’s sad is that to this day if I run into Kelly, we do the whole thing over again. We’re 25 now.
94. I swam competitively for 5 years of my life. I was state champion in the 50 meter Free-Style, 100 meter Free-style, 100 meter Butterfly and led my 4-man relay team to championships in both the Free-style and Medley relays with me as anchor. After I swam, I coached. If there was an empty lane when my older males or females (16-18) were swimming, I would swim exhibition so they could pace themselves to me. They hated this. They found it discomforting that their “old” coach could still kick their butts even though I wasn’t swimming 3 miles a day in training like they did.
93. I hate feet. Period. Hate them. I don’t want anyone near mine or to be near anyone else’s. I think they are grotesque.
92. I love shoes. Love them. I, apparently, also have good taste in them since EVERY pair I decide I want to buy is $150 or more. However, I will settle for a really cute cheaper pair if it comes right down to it. I probably have 150 pairs of shoes. Really.
91. If given my choice, I will go barefoot. Even though I hate feet and love shoes, I would still rather be barefoot. It’s a sensory thing for me.
90. I hate almost all condiments. I don’t eat mayonnaise, mustard, any salad dressing other than Italian, brown gravy, sour cream, guacamole, wasabi or anything such as that. I will eat ketchup but ONLY on French fries and/or chicken nuggets and only if I put it on each one individually.
89. I have the most sensitive nose on the planet. At the daycare centers where I work, I am known for walking down the hallway and pinpointing a dirty diaper from 50 feet. This is VERY inconvenient when working with kids.
88. My sensitive nose is only exceeded by my sensitive stomach. At the mere smell of defecation I begin to gag. This is also VERY inconvenient when working with kids. I also begin to gag and will even throw up if I just HEAR someone else throwing up.
87. My sensitive stomach is NOT affected by blood and guts. When I worked at the hospital I would sit in on surgeries just because I loved them. One of my patients once coughed three days after open heart surgery and split his stitches all the way down his chest. I could see EVERYTHING, including his heart pounding away. While the Speech Language Pathology student I was mentoring was in the corner puking in a trashcan, I was pointing out his various anatomical parts and marveling at the human body.
86. I wanted to be a doctor. But I was too lazy to go to college any longer than 7 years. So I settled for speech language pathology since it was still medical and allowed me to have tons of Neurology training and still guaranteed that I could make medical diagnoses. I still dream of being a doctor, but it will never happen.
85. I would rather be watching football than reading.
84. I would rather be reading than doing anything else, besides watching football.
83. I have very few female friends. Mainly because they tend to be dishonest, backstabbing, selfish bitches. But there are some exceptions. They are few. And very far between.
82. I love to white water raft. I love the physical exertion of it, the rush of the water, the knowledge that at any minute you could hit a rapid so horrendous that you could be disfigured or die.
81. I have been in 5 wrecks that ended with totaled vehicles. NONE were my fault. You can check the police reports if you don’t believe me. The first few were three years running. All of them were in April. By sophomore year at college, my friends were stealing my keys from me and not allowing me to drive in the month of April at all. I thought all my wrecks were behind me. Then in December, while at a stop light, we were T-boned in my door. It broke my hip and caused a few other minor injuries. Just after I was beginning to recover, a man who had been up 72-hours straight and was strung out on methamphetamine decided to commit suicide by hitting the biggest vehicle he saw head on at 65 miles per hour. The biggest vehicle just happened to be mine. There were many varied and sundry injuries from this wreck. He didn’t have insurance. Car insurance people hate me. Particularly since the majority of the people who hit me DON’T have insurance . . . but they can never blame me because it’s never my fault.
And that is a great place to stop for today. If you have any questions you would like me to address in the remainder of the countdown, let me know. Oh, and you can blame Adam for this list. He says he’s realized he doesn’t know the whole story behind any of us, I’m trying to give him a glimpse.